“Dad, Dad, Dad! It’s a helicopter!” My five-year old son is excited by some of the same things I am: food, all things military, mountain biking and beer.
After his customary pretend sip, he usually gives a critique of the beer-du-jour that sounds something like this: “That’s a pretty good beer.” A pause…and wait for it. “And it’s disgusting!” Afraid to be contrarian, he is not.
Seeing a Blackhawk landing about a mile from our campsite on the military crest of the nearest mountain top was neat. Seeing it 10 times a day for 3 days was even better, especially with the helicopter circling right around us. I got a shout out from my son every time we heard it.
Later that afternoon, when four Blackhawks and a Little Bird were RTB’ing and flying in line just above the horizon, my son, daughter and I stood and unabashedly stared. What a sight.
His only complaint: “Dad, it’s not a Backhawk. It’s not black.” With logic like that, it’s tough to argue with him.
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